Ginger
by Keiko Reine Frost
Summary: The Eleventh Doctor bitterly notices that there's something about gingers. Spoilers for "Cold Blood".


**Ulp. Okay, so, this is my first ever Doctor Who story. I'd written this short drabble back in January, but since I'm so bad at techno-babble and never watched the Old Who series, I wasn't sure whether anyone would want to read this. Then I found it again today and decided to see how it was received.**

**This is sort of an extension of the scene where Amy forgets Rory in "Cold Blood." Sorry if it isn't entirely accurate to the episode. Just enjoy it, please.**

**Prompt: There's something about gingers.**

**I do not own Doctor Who—or a fez—in any form. Happy reading!**

The Doctor and Amy Pond both fell forward onto the hard floor. The TARDIS had just trembled and shuddered, as if waking itself from a horrible nightmare. The two time-travelers picked themselves off the floor carefully as the TARDIS rumblings slowly grew quieter. Amy looked up brightly at the Doctor, her previous tears already disappearing from her face. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

The Doctor stared back at her, a sadness flooding his mind and hanging over him like a dark, melancholy raincloud. "Nothing," He finally murmured when Amy prodded him for a response. "Just have to…do something." Turning swiftly to the console, the weary Time Lord withdrew from the girl—the girl who should've been mourning.

Sometimes he hated being superior. If he was like her, he could've completely forgotten about the recent loss and would be just as eager to head to Rio like Amy now was. She trapped in the worst reaction to a dramatic event: forgetting. But it wasn't her fault. She didn't know that her timeline had been altered, that it hadn't mattered that she was a time-traveler, that once upon a time she'd been in love and engaged with someone she'd deeply miss. Amy Pond had lost all memory that her fiancé and longtime friend Rory had died.

Some part of his mind notified the Doctor that his hand was lingering dangerously over a button that if pressed would take them immediately back to where they'd been a few moments ago. And the Doctor knew very well that he absolutely did not go back, not ever. So he withdrew his fist and tapped it against the harmless edge of the console a few times, wishing he could just have the childishness to scream and yell at the cruel death he'd just witnessed in hopes that the problem would simply dissolve. But he hadn't had that kind of infantile outlook for a long, long time.

"Where we going?" Amy asked eagerly as she suddenly appeared by his right shoulder. The Doctor flinched inwardly, but managed to keep his composure and stare fixedly at the controls as if he had an actual destination in mind.

"To sleep." He muttered the words aloud, much to his surprise.

Amy was equally surprised. "Sleep?" She repeated, sounding astonished and disbelieving. "No way!" She leaned over another part of the console and glared firmly at him. "I want to go to Rio."

The Doctor sucked some breath into his powerful Time Lord lungs. "And we will." He promised seriously, his eyes still magnetized to the TARDIS controls. "As soon as you get some rest. You've had a busy day. You humans are supposed to keep a regular sleep schedule, although that's often forgotten here in the TARDIS." He admitted offhandedly. Then he brushed the side thought away and tried to remain nonchalant. "So good night, Pond." He really, really hoped she'd accept this easily.

But he really, really wasn't that stupid, so it wasn't at all shocking when Amy laughed off the order. "We have busy days all the time, Doctor! I feel fine." She strolled around the edge of the console, occasionally stretching out a pointer finger to tap lightly at a lever or switch mechanism. He held in his breath as she lingered over the dangerous little button he'd avoided earlier. (It suddenly struck him odd that he'd have a button that does one thing he hated doing—returning. But he never knew when he might need it.) Amy smiled smugly. "I _feel_ like going to Rio."

"No, that's just your mind trying to be energetic and eager for a new adventure in an attempt to push past the emotional…" He stopped himself. It'd be pointless to tell her about her sadness over Rory. She wouldn't believe him; even if she did, all he'd accomplish was make her troubled and confused. So he kept quiet as Amy called him a "boring bowtie-wearing alien with a bedtime."

"Bowties are cool." He insisted, although it was a halfhearted attempt that came out sounding sad and resigned.

"Are not!" She sang back to him as she skipped off to her room. Her hair flounced at her shoulders and trailed after her like an auburn banner as she disappeared into the partially-lit hallway towards her room. The Doctor pressed his forehead to the column in the center of the console and sighed. Freedom at last.

"Is this just something with gingers?" Words spilled out of his mouth like water from an overfilled glass.

The question wasn't valid, he knew. It had positively nothing to do with hair color. The Void had messed with her timeline; it didn't matter what color locks she possessed when it came to remolding her memories into ones that excluded Rory Williams.

But still…

Donna Noble, with her lovely red hair, had had to lose a part of her memory. She'd lost a wonderful chunk of adventures that he now found terribly bittersweet to reminisce on. (At least he _could_ reminisce—if she remembered any of those brilliant times, her mind would burn up.)

Was being ginger somehow a sort of unspoken guarantee at partial amnesia?

The TARDIS whirred softly. He was fingering that big, dangerous button again. The image of Rory reaching out for Amy with the Void curling around the nurse's limbs like glowing white vines flashed repeatedly in his busy mind. It was a memory he'd be seeing plenty of from now on. The Doctor wouldn't forget. He'd never forget. He just couldn't.

The lights flickered and dimmed as the time machine picked up on its driver's sadness. The Doctor sighed again, ran a hand through the back of his disheveled hair, and found himself wishing more desperately than ever that he could, just once, finally be ginger.

**Any advice? I'd love to hear it, whether it be writing or DW tips. Thanks!**


End file.
